Sheer Recklessness
by Sar'Kalu
Summary: Crossover. In Alagäsia war is brewing once again. The humans are angry at the Urgals and Dwarves inclusion into the Rider's pact. The conservative Urgal sect is angry that their young men are being stolen for a frivolous past time. On Earth, the Ministry has been destroyed and paranoia dogs the wizarding worlds steps. For both worlds the next two years will be life changing.
1. Prologue: Sheer Stupidity

**Prologue: Sheer Stupidity**

He supposed it was reckless to even think about abseiling down into the pit. After all, if the surrounding area was far too unstable for magic, then, usually, you would assume that it would be incredibly dangerous to go any where near said area. However the backlash from the explosion meant that the veil (cause of previously mentioned explosion) needed to be studied and there needed to be a reason for the fact that while the surrounding Ministry building had sunk (dramatically) and the Veil to still be standing on its lovely plinth. In fact it was this fact, more than the actual obviousness of the destruction and sinkage, that had caused the Unspeakable's to approach the surrounding area with expressions of confusion and utter surprise.

There had been no decisions regarding _who_ would be going down there, only that someone _would_. Indeed the argument had lasted into the night and straight onto the next morning leaving all the departments asleep, bored or both. Only three men, Aurors to be precise, were in the 'both' category, and even their superior might have shuddered at the chaos these three men might cause if they were let anywhere near the plinth, Veil and explosion site. The only problem with arguments is that those who are so taken up with said arguments actually miss a great deal of what goes on around. And so, the previously mentioned idiotic men were free to escape the incredibly boring meeting. Owing to the fact of their seniority, reputation and age, no one who saw the trio leave, mentioned any. And the one who had a wife in a neighbouring department left her asleep, correctly thinking that she would disapprove of the trips venture onto the site.

And this was how three eighty year old men found themselves abseiling into an unstable pit kitted out in the latest wizarding technology all in the name of curiosity and science. Unfortunately for them, the explosion hasn't entirely finished, which was why the matter was such a bone of contention between the departments of the Ministry. The only good thing that came from the devastation was the deaths of three men who were about to be fired anyway (the explosion luckily happening after hours), and the leasing for the building of an entirely new, improved and _above_ ground version of the Ministry. In any case the three men, having been bored to pieces within seconds, had missed the explanation of not only was the area unstable, but there was a severe magnetic pull _into_ the Veil itself. And that was exactly what the three men encountered.

Fifteen miles down and the three men were suddenly and inexplicably yanked, forcefully, from the ragged and rocky walls straight into the mouth of the Veil. The men were only able to, at any length, grasp hands before being sucked into the wormhole that was the Veil and were shot out the other end in three separate directions. Which for the record, had already happened once already with one Sirius Black (who had been killed prior to his removal from Earth soil, starting up a very long, and inexplicable cold case in an alternate universe), and was soon to be repeated by two women with the same intentions as their husbands, only instead to 'check it out' they were doing so to haul their sorry husbands bottoms back home in order for them to scold them. Unfortunately, despite the great leaps the wizarding world had made when it came to technology, the Unspeakable's failed to understand the wormhole technology that the Veil actually was, the voices being the whispers of other sentient worlds, and so disregarded the issues that came with having an unguarded wormhole in the basement. The explosion was actually caused by the death of a planet in a galaxy a long, long time ago, far far away.

For the three men they were sent to a sentient planet with no name to a land called Alagäsia. Their wives, sadly, ended up on the opposite side of the universe, one on a planet called Pern. The other in New York City in the bathroom of a very rich, very naked man as he stepped out of the shower. But this story is not about the wives of our reluctant space travellers, it instead about these three men, who in their own way, changed the course of history... For a second time.

And their names were, Harry James Potter, Ronald Billius Weasley and Draco Lucius Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 1: The Men Who Lived

**Chapter One: The Men Who Lived**

The feeling of being sucked through a wormhole at improbable speeds to an impossible world was, upon reflection, much akin to apparating. Being forcefully ejected from a wormhole and into a body a clean and pure water was very much similar to being slammed into the cement after falling fifty feet from your broom. At least, these would have been the conclusions Draco Malfoy drew had he known what a wormhole was, let alone knew that he had just traveled across a universe; sadly, he knew neither of theses things and so his thoughts were easily summed up:

'Ow! What the hell happened?' Draco moaned to himself as he floated gently in a large lake. The area around him was quite deserted. There was little sound apart from the chirruping of birds, the buzzing of insects and the roar of a rather large beast in a fair amount of pain.

As Draco hauled his sorry and soggy butt from the glacial lake he was quick to scrounge his wand from his pocket and dry himself, only to realise that his magic neither worked nor was his wand in any real shape to do anything as it was currently in two pieces. Ignoring his now frigid and shivering body, Draco gazed about himself in wonder, it was clear from his observations that he was not where he should be, and instead appeared to not even be anywhere he recognised. The tall, stately mountains in the distance were nothing more than a purplish smudge on the horizon and the sky was an impossible forget-me-not blue that only the height of summer can produce. Having lived in England for most of his life, Draco was forced to admit that while it was entirely possible for him to miss the entirety of winter and spring, it probably wasn't possibly for England to be growing wild and dark trees. Draco groaned to himself upon the conclusion that the chances of him being in England were slim to none, there was still the possible chance of his possibly being in France of Belgium, at worst Germany. This belief was promptly shattered when a dying, blue skinned creature staggered from the tree line carrying a flag and what appeared to be a white stone.

Now Draco was not uneducated, nor was he stupid. He knew very well that England, Belgium, France and even Germany had very few blue skinned creatures, if any at all. And while he may hold the Germans in contempt he was nonetheless forced to admit that the now improbable chances of him being on Earth at all were stacking up to being impossible. Not for the last time cursing his willingness to follow the red headed weasel and scarhead into danger, Draco crouched behind a bush and watched the creature slump at the waters edge. It was immediately apparent why the creature was dying, the ill-fitting armour had been rent many times by what appeared to be a viciously sharp sword, an appearance made all the more probable by the fact that there was a thick, dark blade sticking from between the creatures shoulder blades.

Draco realise fairly quickly that the creature was running from something. A something that was both dangerous and possibly bad to engage. But Draco was pragmatic enough to realise that he had no true idea of what to do in this situation as he had no knowledge, no leverage and no understanding in and of the world he had landed in. Naturally, desperate times call for desperate measures. The only answer to these problems lay with the now completely dead creature at the waters edge. With quick stealthy movements Draco dashed from his hiding place, snatched up the bloodied and torn flag and scooped up the egg. In a split second decision based on his apparent inability to use even wandless magic on this world, Draco tugged free the black blade with a moue of disgust. Not a moment too soon, Draco swung up into a ridiculously tall tree that had clearly been fed steroids, and a badly hurt hunting party stumped from the trees.

Like the other creature they wore ill-fitting armour, and from their brows spiralled thick, curled horns. Their expressions were of cruelty and savageness as they poked and prodded their deceased prey. Eventually, apparently disgusted, they walked away, jostling each other in bad humour. Their harsh voices and coldly cruel comments in a foreign tongue wafting back on the breeze to Draco's uncomprehending ears. Something afoul was at play.

However before Draco could truly reflect upon his new understanding of the nature of blue-skinned humanoid politics and behaviour, he was disturbed by a scratching noise. Not unlike the hatching of a bird that he had witnessed when his eldest son's owl had hatched owlets. Confused, Draco peered around him searching for the hatching bird. Draco was so confused, tired and uncomprehending that he failed to notice the slight jerking of the white stone in his possession, only when a particularly forceful jerk tumbled him from his perch on the upper branches of the tree he was seated in, did he notice that the stone had shattered. And he only noticed that because the stone had shattered on his chest, winding him. And there in the remnants of the shattered stone sat a dragon.

* * *

Much like Draco, Ronald Weasley, Ron to his friends, landed in an undignified heap in a body of water, however unlike his sometimes friend and compatriot, Ron was knocked unconsciousness and had to be saved by a local fisherman. Ron, not speaking the local language pretended to be mute, using ridiculous (to his mind) hand signals in order to escape the overt and annoying mother of the fisherwife and the attraction of her seventeen year old daughter. Ron still hadn't figured that one out.

The road to hell, they say, is paved with good intentions, for Ron that saying had always brought to mind his best friend and brother, Harry. Sadly for Ron he would have preferred that good intentions hadn't made his road hell by letting the salt water of the ocean ruin his best pair of dragon hide boots. His good intentions, had of course, been the understanding and un-puzzling of the mysterious Veil. Now he was stuck on the highway to hell in poor boots with his feet chafing to a bloody mess all because of his damn curiosity. Damn Draco for not stopping him. Damn Harry for agreeing with him. Damn him for not thinking things through.

Ron halted by the roadside as the sun was setting and with a weather eye on the horizon noticed with trepidation the gathering thunderstorm. Mind made up, Ron hiked his way over three hills, a bubbling creek and skirting numerous fields, to an old fort. It was dusty and dank inside, but it was shelter, and really, as a seasoned Auror, Ron wasn't likely to turn his nose up at any kind of shelter, particularly with rain on the way. A bit of poking around found Ron with enough old furniture to make a decent fire, and a trunk filled with what appeared to be musty blankets and towels. Regardless of the smell which was considerably rank, Ron turned the inside out and rooted around the mouldy and tattered blankets for the most clean and intact one available. Tossing aside two bundles that appeared to be so wretched they had moulded together into a large oval shaped brick, Ron shook out tour blankets that looked like they were a thousand years old. Sighing in disappointment as he realised there must have been some preserving charm on them, Ron decided to make do as his wand had apparently been dropped in transit to wherever the hell he was now. Ron assiduously ignored the issues currently at hand and rolled over on the pile of blankets and promptly fell deeply asleep.

The next morning dawned bright and early and Ron spent the next day rooting around the old fort looking for anything of use. Three hours later turned up fifteen blades - five if which were completely rusted, a further six of those broken and only one decent enough to use; three bows - none of possible use; and a small chest of gold which had been melted down into a brick. Ron sighed as he prodded around the dusty corners of the now empty box and glared around him. The rest of that afternoon was spent on silent contemplation of his unenviable position. Ron glared out at the darkly raining landscape, the previous brightness that had been a brief shower had turned into a dangerous and wild thunderstorm of epic proportions.

The rain sleeted down in sheets of impenetrable water, it was, what Ron imagined looking out over Atlantis might look like. It truly did seem as though the entire land was covered in water from top to bottom. The grass was so sodden it looked closer to mud then anything else while the trees themselves were bending down, the tips of their lofty boughs brushing the ground in a concert of creaking and protesting wood. The sky was steel grey and ominous, Ron was depressed from just looking at it. Not only that, but his shelter wasn't as sheltered as he would have preferred it to be. Currently water trailed down the crumbling arches, creating puddles in the shadows of the magnificent columns. Even his fire was weakly battering against the depressing and oppressive atmosphere, it's tiny flickering light and warm fighting for a chance to truly burn.

Ron didn't know how long it had been, but as the light of dawn broke for a new day the storm finally blew itself out. The floor of the shelter was awash with muddied water and the trees in the distance seemed to breath a sigh of relief as they shuddered free of their gowns of water. All around him, Ron could hear the relieved tweeting of birds as they took to the skies on sodden and bedraggled wings. The fire had died out hours ago, and now, with wet clothing, Ron was anything but happy, his only conciliation was that he had gold enough to buy clothing and a horse in order to search for his friends. As he shook out the blankets he had used, searching for one that appeared *slightly* dry, Ron's eyes were drawn to a slight twinkling in the light of the morning rays. Cautious and curious steps drew Ron from his necessary task as his blue eyes traced his path from the doorway to the window where the two bundles of stiffened blankets had been carelessly thrown.

There in the light winked two beautifully coloured stones. One was the most vibrant and elegantly coloured royal purple, the other was a darkly shining obsidian. As Ron tugged the purple stone free of its confined in order to admire the gently swirling gold within its depths, he felt the slightest twitch within. Shocked beyond measure, Ron hastily placed the stone down and watched it warily as it rocked jerkily. With an almighty crack, the stone cracked directly down the center to unfold like an elegant and beautiful flower. Ron let out a gasp of shock and awe as he beheld the most beautiful creature, a dragon.

* * *

Harry Potter woke up groaning , flat on his back, in the middle of a forest clearing; his entire body hurt, and while he checked for any broken bones and wrenched muscles he looked around his environment. The clearing was empty of all life, and the ground he sat upon was charred by magical energies. The trees above him were dark and forbidding in appearance, and were swaying in an invisible breeze. At the trees dipped and swayed, Harry heard an odd booming and rattling that echoed out over the tree tops. The grass around him twitched involuntarily as a great sweeping wind flattened it mercilessly. Harry flopped backwards once more only to let out a yell of shock and horror.

Harry leapt to his feet and without much thought, sprinted as fast as he could to the tree line, behind him the dull booming thuds grew closer by the minute. Harry howled in surprise as a great taloned paw swept him from the ground and dragged him unwillingly into the air. Minutes past and Harry began to enjoy the feeling of flying once more, despite the uncomfortableness of his situation, Harry was nothing if not adaptable. He was also intelligent enough to realise that anything that didn't eat, harm or in anyway appear to desire to harm him immediately could be treated with caution, respect and not a little bit of hope. These thoughts were dislodged from his mind as the paw released him with a vengeance on top of a incredibly high cliff top. And as Harry turned, his mind went blank in shock.

There, perched like a tame bird, stood an impossibly large, blood red dragon.


	3. Chapter 2: Travel's and Dragon's

Chapter Two: Travels and Dragons

:_Wake up, Little One_: Whispered a crooning voice in Draco's mind.

Silvery eyes snapped open to gaze into the gentle orbs of his dragon. Above him the sky glittered in the late morning light and the trees waved gently in the nearly nonexistent breeze. Two days had passed since he had foolishly touched the beautiful creature on her head. Foolish maybe, he reflected pleased, but in no way stupid. His sad and miserable life had taken a pleasant turn for the better since Vanya had hatched. It had been, according to his little beauty, been a thousand years since she had been laid by her mother. And she would have waited another thousand before she chose anyone before him. Vanya was utterly beautiful in Draco's biased opinion; her scales were an icy and pure white with her spines and horns a burnished and polished gold. She truly was stunning; and Draco couldn't help but feel smug at being her rider.

The past days had been spent travelling from the Empire of Alagäsia to the Far East where the dragons and Eldunarí now live. Vanya had been impossibly useful in guiding her very lost and confused Rider through the wilderness. Strangely Draco had been relatively close, it had become apparent to Draco that the creature (Urgal, according to Vanya), had been trying to escape someone who was after Vanya, or rather her egg. The flag that the Urgal had been carrying was emblazoned with a leaping stag and a thickly twisted tree on a dark green field. Vanya had gladly identified the scrap of cloth as the flag of the Urgal Cheiftan's, something she had heard about whilst stuck in her egg. According to his vain and tempestuous dragon, dragons were highly sort after as if one was to become a Rider, no matter your previous station, you would become as royalty.

At any rate, the last two days had been spent on the run relying on the shaky memories of a two week old hatchling. Draco lifted his head from where it was pillowed on his arm and smiled gently at his little dragonet and lifted his free arm and stroked down the length of her body. :_I'm awake, Van._:

Vanya sniffed and regarded him caustically. :_Then you should get up and start walking as well, it is late and I can feel someone following us_!:

Draco stiffened at his dragons words and swiftly stood and packed up his scarce belongings. Behind him the trees rattled with a preternatural winds, the boughs shaking with a rattling fear as they warned of trouble ahead. Vanya scampered up Draco's arm and together the duo carefully skulked from the safety of the trees and darted across the empty field. A large thud behind them had Draco spinning around hefting his stolen Urgal sword as he did so. Draco knew dragons got big, he really did, but the sheer size of the one in front of him was astounding. Draco felt his jaw drop in stunned amazement, his attention broken by the sight of a man sliding from its back and running towards him in joyful happiness. Draco felt his jaw hit the ground.

* * *

Ron knew this would happen, he really did. He gazed sourly at his sheepish dragon who was draped over his muscular shoulders. No matter what they tell you, Ron thought to himself sourly, a hatchling does not have clear enough memories in order to get to the capital city. Ron dragged a callused hand through his roughly cut red hair and his sharp blue eyes peered under heavily scowling brows around him. He stood at a crossroad, his inability to read left him at a gridlock, on one hand both roads appeared to be well kept and so, both could arguably be the road to the capital. On the other, it was over caste and the day was without shade and so it was impossible to get a grasp on which road pointed north. Ron scowled deeply, he was lost.

The day had started out well enough, he supposed. They had packed themselves up in record time, in other words, less then thirty minutes as Tariel, his dragon, had to be spotless before they moved anywhere. She was a glorious deep purple that shone brilliantly in the bright sunlight. At less than a week old, Tariel was getting too big for him to carry, but at the same time she was sadly too young to travel far on her own. Regretfully, Ron was forced to admit that he would have to find somewhere to curl up and wait for his companion to mature further. Not to mention they were hopelessly lost.

Grumbling to himself, Ron stumped from the side of the road to a thicket of trees, their dark leaves and woody boughs fluttered in the gentle wind. Tariel leapt down from his shoulders and curled up at the base of a nearby tree, her violet eyes absorbing his quick and sure movements with curiosity.

:_What are you doing?_: Tariel asked curiously, despite having watched Ron do the same actions for the past four nights in a row. However, admittedly this was the first time she had questioned him, her light soprano voice trilling like music in his mind.

Ron smiled gently at his dragon, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges. :_I'm making camp, I'm not like you. I cannot weather all conditions. I need warmth and dry to survive._:

Tariel cocked her head to the side, her body exuding the curiosity she clearly felt. She huffed as she considered these words and violet eyes narrowed at her Rider. :_When I am bigger you will not need to worry about such things. I will protect you._: Tariel's voice was final and flat, her violet eyes showing her confidence and decisiveness regarding the subject.

Ron smiled brilliantly, the care shown by his dragon was vastly different to that shown by a mother. The bond was different, more personal. Tariel was his world, his light and his soul. No one could take her from him, he wouldn't allow it. It was only fair, he supposed, that this protective possessiveness went both ways.

:_Of course you will, dear heart_: Ron agreed.

The next month was spent in traversing the forest Ron found himself in, Tariel never far away as she practised flying and hunting. Their bodies grew lean and muscular, and Ron, in all his wisdom, forgot about civilisation and his friends as his world narrowed to the great purple dragon that obscured his view of the world. Devotion didn't come close to what the pair felt for each other, even among dragon Rider's they would be unusual. Tariel grew enormously, shooting up feet in weeks and her length tripled in the month they lived alone. Her purple scales deepened and matured in colour, it couldn't be more obvious in Ron's eyes that his dragon was a true queen among dragons. But then, he was a bit biased.

They were undisturbed as they travelled along the forest floor, Tariel flying above Ron as she leapt from tree to tree, their movements swift as they traversed what was known as the Spine. The towering mountains creating a dense cloud of fog and mist. The trees here were wilder, and the creatures more abundant and elusive. Ron with no one but Tariel to talk to became concerned with the 'bubbling' beneath his mind. He had spent two days alone in meditation trying to understand it, and finally it became clear to him. His magic as a wizard had joined and melded with that of his dragon, creating a truly different brand of magic.

After all, according to his wise and beautiful Tariel, dragon magic came from the world around them, they borrowed it from the earth herself. While a wizards magic came from his core, his soul and so the melding tripled, if not quintupled, his core in size which in turn doubled the magic his dragon could wield. Tariel had been slightly smug about that discovery and with her own internal meditation began to 'remember' the past lives of her ancestors. Ron smiled as he leapt over a small bubbling brook, his mind high above flying on violet wings in the azure sky. There truly was something to be said about living on your own, all his life he had been surrounded by others, his mind rarely, if ever getting rest. He hadn't matured much since the war, his body too ready to fight and his life so hectic and crazy that he never got the chance to reflect on everything he learnt.

Now though, with nothing to do but think he felt himself changing. Growing and maturing, his thought process was slower, deeper and more respectful. In his discussions with his young and ever curious dragon he drew new and wonderful conclusions about his life and of those who he had befriended and spent his life with. No longer did he wonder at Draco and Harry's behaviour regarding issues of which they had always argued. He now saw, with the wonderful clear vision that hindsight brings, that more often than not, that the duo had more often been correct, and how foolish he himself had often been.

:_You do not give yourself enough credit, little one._: Tariel murmured in his mind, above him the beating of her wings cracked the brittle branches of the trees.

Ron sighed heavily, his soul heavy and weary. :_Perhaps not, but I cannot but help but see my own foolishness could have got us killed. All for boredom I made us abseil down a dangerous and unstable cliff face, all in the name of satisfying my curiosity. Completely forgetting as I did so the effect the Veil has upon Harry and Draco. I may have fought in the same war, but it never touched me like it did them. I can only hope that I will gain their forgiveness._:

Tariel hummed in comfort, unable to truly dispute her Riders words, for he was correct on all accounts. He had been hasty and unthinking of any and all consequences. It would be interesting to see where this new growth would take him, Ron was a leader, she knew that, despite his not seeing so. In his memories she also saw that his friends, Draco and Harry were pure of heart and truly great leaders themselves, the trio were a formidable team and Alagäsia truly wouldn't know what had hit it. So absorbed was she in her rumination that she missed the flickering shadow from above. What she didn't miss was the sudden change in pressure of the air around her and the roar of a fellow dragon...

* * *

Harry gazed in shock at the massive dragon in front of him. It was blood red with glaring dark eyes and wickedly sharp spikes that traced down its thick neck to the tip of its brittle and stiff tail. It was a measure of his shock that Harry missed the man that climbed from the dragons shoulders until said man landed neatly on the ground. Harry barely managed to resist his jaw from dropping in gormless amazement, never in his eighty years had he seen a dragon as large as this one and neither had he ever observed a man fly upon a dragon. It should not have been possible.

"Good day." The man said in a foreign tongue, his face a mixture of worry and curiosity as he approached Harry. "May I ask why you approach the dragon lands?"

Harry blinked, flustered. Now his attention had been drawn from the magnificent dragon, he could only blink in surprise at the man. His body was trim and muscular, long, lean legs were clad in what appeared to be leather, while his broad and strong torso was sheathed in a tan linen shirt. A broad belt emphasised the trim waist and Harry felt himself turn bright red as he was forced to contemplate he possibility of checking the man out. Not only that but the man had addressed him, the only problem was that the musical language the man spoke was incomprehensible to him.

"I'm really sorry, but I don't know what you are saying!" Harry said apologetically, his hands out and up as he spoke in English. He looked around and ran a hand through his black hair. "I'm lost."

The man frowned confused as he watched Harry. He raised a hand slowly and tapped his chest speaking as he did so. "Murtagh."

Harry blinked and smiled, a rare sunny smile that lit up his face. He pointed at the stranger and repeated what he said. "Mur-tag?" He smiled genuinely, pleased to be conversing with a friendly person for once. He was rather tired of death threats. He tapped his chest in return. "Harry."

"Har-ree?" Murtagh stumbled over the unfamiliar word, repeating it several times with Harry's coaching. Murtagh nodded when he finally got it though, his grey eyes thoughtful as he stared at Harry.

Meanwhile Harry was gazing about him, the foreign names, the bizarre landscape, it was all leading up to a different world in Harry's mostest opinion. Mind made up Harry turned to the man his face set with concentration. He slapped his chest. "Name, Harry." He cocked his head sideways, staring intensely at Murtagh. Murtagh nodded, his forehead crinkled with thought. Harry smiled, guessing that Murtagh understood. He crouched and slapped the earth with a heavy thump. "Name?" He questioned before making the universal question for 'I'm fucking clueless here' with his arms bent at the elbows and palms open to the sky.

Murtagh frowned and rubbed his head, confused. Harry repeated the action several times, eventually it must have clicked as Murtagh crouched as well and thumped the ground with a blinding smile. "Alagäsia!"

Harry groaned, his green eyes wide as he took in the obvious explanation and shook his head in dispair. He would kill Ron when he found the red-haired wanker. Murtagh approached carefully and knelt beside the distraught wizard. "Alah-gai-zia?" Harry muttered unhappily. "Just my luck."

"Bad?" He asked, Harry stared at him uncomprehendingly. Murtagh bit his lip in annoyance. "Bad." He repeated and frowned impressively. Then he smoothed his expression and said a different word. "Good." And smiled pleasantly.

Harry watched the actions several times a frown on his face. Understanding hit him like a lightening bolt. He nodded enthusiastically and repeated "bah-d" several times looking distinctly unhappy. 'Gooh-d' was left alone, after all, there was nothing good about this situation.

Murtagh frowned sympathetically and wrapped a companionable arm around the other man. He had no idea why being Alagäsia was bad but he was about to figure it out. He repeated Harry's gesture of 'why' and pointed at the earth and said 'bad', he repeated these actions until Harry gripped his waving hands tightly and turned inwards, clearly trying to figure out a way to explain.

Harry raked a hand roughly through his hair and glared at the ground. Biting his lip, Harry smoothed a patch of dirt and drew a circle and pointed. "Alagäsia." Murtagh nodded slowly, his eyes intent as he watched Harry try and explain. Harry then drew a line through the picture of Alagäsia and drew another world beside it and pointed. "Earth."

"Eye-arth?" Murtagh stumbled over the word confused.

Harry sighed and frowned. He pointed again at the world he had designated as Alagäsia. "Murtagh, Alagäsia." Harry repeated the action twice and then still frowning he pointed at Earth. "Earth, Harry."

Murtagh watched his new acquaintance point at the different circles and speak the different words in confusion. He pointed hesitantly. "This is Alagäsia, I live here?" He said confused.

Harry listened to the uncertain quality in the musical language Murtagh spoke. "Yes! Yes!" He said excitedly. "You, Murtagh, Alagäsia!"

"Okay, so I live here," Murtagh murmured comprehending what his acquaintance was telling him. "But I have never heard of this Earth before." He frowned again. "Where?" He asked, tapping the picture of the Earth curiously.

Harry shrugged, understanding what Murtagh was asking. "Harry gone. Earth gone." He shrugged.

"Goh-ohn?" Murtagh repeated.

Harry huffed and picked up a stone that rested by his foot. "Stone, here." He said, juggling it slightly in his hand. He tapped the stone twice and repeated its name. Murtagh nodded curious. "Gone!" With that pronouncement, Harry tossed the stone over the cliff. "Gone." He reiterated.

Murtagh felt understanding hit him. "Oh." He stared at the other man as Harry stared at the picture of the two worlds resting side by side. "Your land is gone, you aren't from Alagäsia. You're lost and alone."

The red dragon rumbled as he watched the comedy act his Rider and the stranger act out. As comprehension hit his rider, the dragon crooned in sad understanding.

Murtagh smiled at his sympathetic dragon and stood. He approached the red scaled beast and pointed. "Harry!" Harry's head shot up and bemused green eyes watched his new friend tap the scaled shoulder of the dragon. "Thorn!" Murtagh said with great emphasis.

Harry's eyes lit up, the dragon was called Thorn! "TH-orn?" The first part of the name seemed to be stressed while the last half was gentler. Harry repeated the word several times, rolling it around his mouth. He nodded and smiled at the dragon.

Murtagh beckoned him closer. "Come on, I have to take you to Eragon, he'll decide what to do with you."

Harry cocked his head, uncomprehending but smiled anyway. Trusting Murtagh not to hurt him, he walked up to the dragon and stroked its shoulder. He smiled, his face took on a gentler cast as he looked up at the great creature, rubbing the pads of his fingers on the polished, but rough texture of the dragons scales.

"Dragon." He murmured, stroking the scales.

Murtagh blinked as he heard Harry say 'dragon', he knew what a dragon was? He grinned, maybe Harry would have an egg hatch for him. Thorn chuckled in the depths of his mind, as Murtagh seemed to exuded extreme happiness.

"Up!" Murtagh eventually chirped to his companion. Harry turned to him in surprise.

"What?" He asked, it sounded almost as though Murtagh was saying 'fuck', but he was sure that the other man hadn't sworn. Confused he watched as the other man climb up the great dragons shoulder onto a padded saddle and reach down for his hand.

"Come on," Murtagh said gently, coaxing Harry to climb up onto Thorn's shoulder.

Harry blinked uncertainly and did as he was told, carefully creeping up the mountainous appendage onto Thorn's back. The extremely large dragon leapt into the air and with massive beats of his wings swept them from the mountainous crag they had rested on and carried them over the peaks and along the forest. Harry had no idea how long they travelled, his wondering eyes still absorbing the amazing new-ness of the land of Alagäsia. The rushing and tumbling rivers and the great trees creaking in the wind were amazing in Harry's limited opinion.

The flew for hours, Thorn apparently needing no sleep as he beat his great wings rhythmically, carrying them further along the forest. As the trees began to thin and the dawn begin to break, Harry spotted a large lake, it's banks had been churned and there was a dead man lying in the shallows. Murtagh frowned as he gazed upon the dead person, but as there was no identifying markings it became clear that the Urgal had probably been a rogue. By mid-morning the sun was beating heatedly upon Harry's exposed neck and arms, crisping his white skin ruthlessly. Murtagh was currently dozing in his saddle, trusting his dragon to get them to where they needed to be. Harry however, was still far too curious to waste time on sleeping, particularly when he didn't need it. It was because of this that he spotted the blond dash from the tree line and across the golden field that the clearing was.

Harry cried out in gladness as he realised who the man was and thumped Murtagh's shoulder, waking the Rider from his repose. "There!" He cried out, pleasure lighting his voice.

Murtagh, despite not really understanding what Harry had said, peered down and spotted the man running. From Harry's tone of voice though, it was clear the dark haired young man knew who the stranger was. Murtagh directed Thorn to land in front of the running man. Upon landing Harry flung himself from Thorn's back, ignoring Murtagh's shocked yell of warning. Recklessly endangering life and limb in his haste.

"Draco!"


End file.
